


timeless treasures

by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Alec Lightwood, M/M, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Memory Loss, Memory Magic, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-18 11:24:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13099080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion/pseuds/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion
Summary: “It’s not what you think,” Magnus says, his heart giving a painful squeeze. “A spell of mine went a little haywire, and it hit you. You’ve – you’ve forgotten me. I promise, Alexander, youdoknow me.”Alec simply stares at him suspiciously. He lowers his hand and his gaze darts around the loft, fixing on little things, like the potted plant on the windowsill, or the coffee machine still gurgling away. It’s still early morning, the first rays of sunlight stirring the clouds into soft peaks, visible through the open window. Alec is bathed in a white glow, and even sleepy-eyed and bleeding, he looks beautiful. Magnus feels the same indescribable ache he’s always felt whenever he looks at Alec, but this time it hurts a little more, because when Alec looks at him, he doesn’t feel the same way.





	timeless treasures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhiskeyKisses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiskeyKisses/gifts).



> One of the prompts was 'angst angst angst and then fluff' so I took it and ran with it. I really hope you like it, WhiskeyKisses, and everyone else! Thank you!

Magnus has spent a large portion of his life feeling tired. His exhaustion has spread out over the years, interspersed with months of cheer and happiness, periods of his life where he falls in love and feels lighter than ever, feels like he’s walking on air, feels that swell of admiration in his chest and that burst of adoration in his stomach. But he always drifts back to feeling tired. Living this long takes its toll, because even if his body doesn’t age the way it should, the rest of him does. His mind doesn’t atrophy, but his spirit seems to grow weaker. His defences crack and his heart turns to stone. It feels like he has less left to give, because the bits of him that are left are all used up, dry and cracked and crumpled. 

And yet he keeps finding parts of himself, dusting them off and handing them out for free. He shaves off pieces to give to Raphael, to Catarina, to Maia and Ragnor. He gives pieces of himself to Simon and Clary and Jace and Isabelle, to Shadowhunters, to _Alec_.

Magnus always thought if he were going to be caught dead with a Shadowhunter, with the people who have despised him for centuries, used him and thrown him away time and time again, then that Shadowhunter would have to be the most perfect person on the planet. 

Alexander isn’t perfect. He is a basket of contradictions. He has an iron-clad control over himself and his body, but he is impulsive when it comes to what he wants, when he decides to let himself have it. He is neat and tidy, almost to a military degree, but he leaves his socks all over Magnus’s apartment, forgets to wipe the toothpaste stains out of the sink. He makes a lot of mistakes, and he is simply too much sometimes, too brash, too cautious, too determined, too withdrawn, too naive, too brave. He is a lot of things, and not all of those things are good, but they make up the man that Magnus loves, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Which is what makes this moment, right here, one of the most tiring moments of Magnus’s life. 

Alec blinks at him steadily. There’s a slightly dazed look to his eyes, and a cut on his head that Magnus wants to heal. He’s not sure magic would be welcome at the moment. He’s not sure that _he’s_ welcome at the moment. 

“What exactly do you remember?” Magnus asks. He keeps his voice calm, doesn’t let the tremor shaking its way through his veins alter his tone. There is a grace to this moment, a finesse, and he has to get it right if he wants to get Alec to trust him. He’s already glancing around the kitchen, either looking for a weapon, an escape route, or something he recognises. 

“Everything’s a little hazy,” Alec admits. “I remember hunting…”

He cuts himself off quickly, eyes widening suddenly as the haze of confusion fades, and Magnus is quick to reassure him. 

“Hunting demons, I imagine. I know you’re a Shadowhunter,” he soothes. “I’m a Warlock.” 

Alec draws back instantly, one hand raising to graze along his temple, where the blood is starting to congeal, grow tacky. 

“What did you do to me?” Alec demands lowly. “Is this some kind of spell? How did I get here?”

“It’s not what you think,” Magnus says, his heart giving a painful squeeze. “A spell of mine went a little haywire, and it hit you. You’ve – you’ve forgotten me. I promise, Alexander, you do know me.” 

Alec simply stares at him suspiciously. He lowers his hand and his gaze darts around the loft, fixing on little things, like the potted plant on the windowsill, or the coffee machine still gurgling away. It’s still early morning, the first rays of sunlight stirring the clouds into soft peaks, visible through the open window. Alec is bathed in a white glow, and even sleepy-eyed and bleeding, he looks beautiful. Magnus feels the same indescribable ache he’s always felt whenever he looks at Alec, but this time it hurts a little more, because when Alec looks at him, he doesn’t feel the same way. 

“Let me call your sister,” Magnus says gently. “I imagine Jace already felt something through your bond. If I’m right, he should be here soon.” 

Alec nods sharply, still on guard, and Magnus closes his expression down so that Alec won’t see the desperation in his gaze, before he goes to find the phone. 

*

The door clicks shut behind the Lightwood’s with a resolute snap. The loft seems still, empty. Magnus is alone again, for the first time in a while, and he can feel it all around him, the soupy silence and treacle-thick tension. He very gently presses his forehead against the door, feeling the smooth grain of wood under his skin. His eyes slip closed, and a dry sob works its way up his throat before he can push it down. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, opens his eyes, and steps away. 

He’s never felt more tired. 

Alec had glanced at him, just once, before leaving. The suspicion had disappeared, replaced by curiosity, soothed away by Izzy’s warm words and Jace’s steady presence. He had been hoping that Alec would suddenly snap out of it, that the spell would wear off and recognition would fill Alec’s eyes, that he’d come storming over and grab Magnus, kiss him like he had at the wedding, at the end of the aisle. Magnus dreams of that kiss, sometimes. 

He has a feeling his dreams are going to be a lot less pleasant from now on. 

He lets himself have another few moments, and then he makes his way over to the desk in his room. The facts, when laid out on a piece of paper, are simple. A spell Magnus was working on for a client went wrong, and hit Alec in the head. Alec was staring right at him when it happened. As a result, Alec no longer remembers Magnus, or their time together. He no longer remembers that they love each other. For Alec, there’s nothing between them but a cut temple and a moment of suspicion. 

Magnus sits down heavily in the hard-backed chair and grips his knees. He has to fix this. Alec had said, before, in a neon-lit alley, that he didn’t think he could live without Magnus. Magnus has never thought to tell him that it’s mutual, that the idea of living in a world where Alec doesn’t remember him, doesn’t know him, makes something crack inside him. He thought Alec knew, that he would always know. 

He has to fix this. 

*

The bed feels empty, so Magnus doesn’t sleep in it. The sheets are cold and the space that Alec used to fill feels vast and wide, like a chasm. He’s grown used to his presence in the loft, to the warmth of another person in his bed. He grabs fistfuls of sleep on the couch, instead, curled up on the cushion that Alec used to favour. He’s moping, certainly, but he thinks it’s understandable. He draws the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over him. His eyes itch and he’s restless, but he’s been alive long enough to know that lack of sleep is not a good thing. It won’t help him solve this. 

He’s finally drifting off when someone knocks on his door, and an undignified groan passes his lips before he can stop it. He climbs to his feet and takes a deep breath. It takes a little more effort than it should to get his magic to work, to paint on a perfect face, to rearrange his hair and conceal the dark circles beneath his eyes. 

He opens the door and deflates a little. Disappointment wells within him, and he realises he was expecting, hoping to see Alec on the other side, memory restored, searching for him, coming _home_. Instead, he gets Simon.

“Wow,” Simon says, hefting his bag a little higher over his shoulder. “That level of disappointment is great for my self-esteem, just so you know.” 

Magnus levels a tired look at him, and then steps back, waving a hand for him to enter. He’s long since learned that Shadowhunters and Mundanes and Vampires don’t actually know how to leave him be when he wants to be left alone. 

“You look awful.” 

Magnus quirks an eyebrow. “I look fantastic, actually.”

Simon grimaces. “Well, yeah. You’ve done that magic thing. But you still look awful. On the inside.”

“I had no idea that being a vampire came with X-Ray vision,” Magnus says, closing the door and relocating to the couch. He’s fond of Simon, even if he does purposely tease him by forgetting his name all the time. He’s fond of all his Downworlders. 

“It’s a skill I was born with,” Simon says, cheerfully enough. He drops a bag by the door and then throws himself onto the chaise lounge, wincing as the hard back digs into his spine. He wriggles around uncomfortably, and Magnus watches him with tired amusement. 

“Why do you have this?” Simon complains. 

“For aesthetic purposes,” Magnus says simply. “It’s not supposed to be comfortable, it’s supposed to look good in my loft. You’re going to put a dent in it with all that writhing around.” 

“Oh, the horror,” Simon says, wriggling with purpose now. 

Magnus sighs, exasperated. “Simon, what are you doing here? I know it’s not simply to destroy my furniture.” 

Simon straightens up suddenly, a serious look falling over his face. “I came to see how you were doing. Clary told me what happened.”

Magnus stays silent, focusing intently on a chip in his nail polish. 

“I went to see Alec,” Simon says hesitantly. Magnus can’t help the way he stiffens, the way his gaze flickers towards Simon. Simon stares back, watching him carefully. 

Magnus clears his throat. “How is he?”

“He seems fine,” Simon says. “A little confused, but mostly his same old self. They’re trying to find a way to fix his memory, but he doesn’t understand why they’re so insistent on it, since he doesn’t know what he’s forgotten.”

Magnus lets out a slow, measured breath. It hurts, to know that Alec could simply go on with his life, that he could carry on without this affecting him in the slightest. 

“So, he’s fine, then. That’s good. I was afraid there might be some side-effects.”

“Side-effects,” Simon repeats incredulously. “Magnus, I think there was a pretty big side-effect to that spell hitting him, don’t you?”

“There may not be a way to fix that one,” Magnus points out, although he doesn’t want to think about it. “I was referring to smaller, mendable side-effects.”

Simon chews on his lip for a moment, thinking hard. Then he claps his hands together and gets to his feet.

“Well, you’re not going to find an answer like this. Come on, I’ll go and buy you some coffee while you grab some sleep. Clary and I will help you with whatever you need. There must be books we can look at, research we can do. We can help you with this, Magnus.”

Magnus lets his gaze drift from Simon’s eager expression. There are a pair of shoes – not his – hidden under one of the side-tables, laces splayed haphazardly all over the place. A book sits on the coffee table, a blue bookmark poking out of the thin pages, because Alec always insists that it’s a travesty to damage a book in any way. Flowers fill the vase on the windowsill, a remnant of a spontaneous impulse buy whilst walking back from one of their dates. 

There are little pieces of Alec littered all around the apartment, and Magnus abruptly realises that he doesn’t want to lose this. A part of him has been insisting that maybe this was for the best, that maybe things happened for a reason. 

“You don’t have to do it alone,” Simon says earnestly. 

Magnus tips his head back against the back of the couch. There are a million things running through his mind, but despite everything, he knows he can’t afford to give up. He doesn’t want to lose Alec. 

He discards the blanket, ignoring Simon’s little moue of protest. “You go and get coffee, I’ll find the information we need.”

“I’ll fetch Clary too,” Simon says, practically beaming as he crosses to the door. “She’ll want to help.”

Magnus smiles at him fondly, watching him go. Then he summons everything he needs from his study, spreads it all out over the table, and gets to work. 

*

Magnus isn’t feeling quite so fond a half hour later, when Simon returns. 

“I thought you said you were fetching Clary and coffee,” Magnus says, out of the corner of his mouth. “Nowhere in that statement did you mention you would be bringing the root of the problem to my loft.”

Simon stares at him, wide-eyed. Clary takes a sip of coffee and studiously avoids his gaze. 

Alexander lifts a page in a book, brow furrowed. He’s hunched over the table, one hand planted firmly next to a packet of dried herbs, his hair falling over his eyes. The cut on his temple is gone, replaced with smooth, clear skin. There’s no smile on his face when he glances up at Magnus, only intense curiosity. 

“I panicked, when he asked where we were going,” Simon says, clearly still panicking. “I told him we were going to help you with something, and he offered to come with us. He seemed pretty keen to meet you again. I think he’s curious.”

“Yes, well, curiosity is not quite the emotion I was hoping for, the next time I had to see him again,” Magnus says.

Simon grimaces, offering him a sheepish shrug. Magnus sighs, pasting on a pleasant smile, and moves around the table to pick up a book of his own. Alec looks up as he draws near, letting the page slip through his fingers. 

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” Alec says, holding out a hand. Magnus feels his heart falter. He can sense Clary and Simon watching him, even as they talk quietly amongst themselves. When Alec’s hand dips slightly, Magnus shakes himself and reaches up to grasp it. He keeps his touch light and clinical, because any more than that and he may break, but Alec surprises him by letting the touch linger. 

“Magnus Bane,” he offers, when Alec does let go. 

Alec cringes back as soon as the last syllable leaves his lips, and Magnus stares in surprise and concern as he grips his head with both hands. 

“Sorry,” Alec grits out. “My head starting hurting.” 

Magnus wants to reach out. His hands are halfway there, poised in mid-air to hold him, envelope him, soothe away his problems, when Clary clears her throat from the corner. Magnus freezes, and then lets his hands drop, dusting off his clothes. He let himself forget, for a moment. 

Alec straightens up after half a minute, and he fixes Magnus with a wary look. Magnus makes sure his hands are in Alec’s line of sight. 

“I always seem to be in pain around you,” Alec jokes, and Magnus flinches imperceptibly. He tries not to delve a little deeper into those words than called for. 

Simon makes a strangled noise, and claps his hands together loudly. “So. The pain thing, has that been happening often?”

Alec frowns slightly. “A bit, yeah. Every time I start to think too hard about what I’m forgetting. It’s like there’s this blank space where something should be, but I can’t think what it is, and when I spend too long thinking about it, I get this sharp pain in the middle of my forehead.”

“Sounds delightful,” Clary says, sipping her coffee. 

“You said you were a Warlock, and this was your spell,” Alec says, turning back to face him. His eyes flit all over Magnus’s face, like he’s looking for something, and Magnus hopes to high heaven that he finds it. “Can you fix it? They’ve tried telling me what I’ve forgotten… but it hurts when they bring it up. But there’s a piece of my life that I’m missing, and I want it back.”

_I want it back._

Magnus inhales sharply, trying to compose himself. 

Alec is still looking at him curiously, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “So, can you fix it?”

Magnus finds himself winking, strength filling him for the first time in a few days. “Alexander, darling, I think you’ll find there’s not much that I can’t do when I put my mind to it.”

*

It’s Clary who figures it out, half an hour later. She puts her now-empty coffee cup down slowly and says, thoughtfully, “What if it’s not a memory spell? What if it’s a blocking spell?”

The room grows still and silent. 

Clary taps her finger excitedly against the page in front of her, pointing at a particular passage. “Think about it. If it was a memory spell, then it would have affected all of Alec’s memory, wouldn’t it? But he can still remember everything except… that one thing, and the moments surrounding it. It’s blocking something specific.”

Alec glances sharply at Magnus. “Is that possible?”

Magnus murmurs under his breath for a moment, running it over in his head. “It definitely makes more sense than a memory-altering spell. The problem is, I’m not quite sure how to combat it. It may take a while for me to think of an antidote.”

Alec deflates, all the energy leaving him in a rush. 

Magnus doesn’t quite know if it’s his place to reassure Alec. Before, he would have stepped in with no hesitation, held Alec closely and soothed him, just as Alec would have done for him. Now, he glances to the side, and Simon pastes on a cheery grin. 

“But that’s one step closer to an answer! Now all we have to do is figure out the antidote.”

“No pressure,” Clary adds, with a small, comforting smile, and Magnus sighs. He’s got his work cut out for him. 

“I’m staying,” Alec says suddenly, standing up straight. Magnus feels his insides freeze as the words sink in. 

“Pardon?”

“Until you think of an antidote,” Alec explains. “I’m staying here. I want to help, however I can, and I want to be close to the solution.”

Clary’s eyes flick between them anxiously. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

Alec furrows his brow. “Why not?”  
There’s a small silence. Magnus can’t think of a reason that isn’t ‘because you used to love me, and now you don’t remember who I am.’ He dismally wonders when this became his life. 

When it becomes clear that Alec is still waiting for an answer, Magnus clears his throat and waves a hand dismissively. 

“It’s perfectly fine. I have a guest room down the hall you can stay in until I can find the antidote. You’re always welcome here, Alexander.” 

The last part is too warm, too caring, because Alec looks surprised, and then thoughtful. 

“Thanks,” Alec says slowly, and Magnus hurriedly turns to face Simon and Clary. 

“Well, allow me to see you out. It looks like I’ve got a busy few days ahead of me.”

*

Alec confronts him a few days into their new living arrangements. He’s spent the past few days skirting around the edges of the loft, examining things and asking Magnus the odd question, and Magnus honestly can’t take much more of it. He keeps expecting Alec to drop a quick kiss on his forehead, or offer an opinion on a book he’s reading, or take his hand absent-mindedly to examine his new nail polish. He expects quiet laughter and unashamed flirting and even the odd complaint, but this Alexander is different. He’s reserved, and quiet, and stoic, and it takes a piece of Magnus with him every time he sees the curious wariness in Alec’s eyes. 

And then Alec confronts him, as Magnus is combing through a stack of books, and he remembers just how smart and direct Alec can be. 

“I’m not stupid,” Alec says quietly. “I know this has something to do with you. I was in your house when the spell backfired, and you knew who I was, but I don’t remember getting there. I don’t remember your face or your name. I was too confused, at the time, to think much of it, but you’re a part of this, somehow.”

His face creases up in pain, and Magnus hushes him. He puts the book down on the table beside him and steps forward. 

“Just try and relax,” Magnus says soothingly. “Thinking about it is only going to cause you more pain, Alexander.” 

“There’s that, too,” Alec says, through gritted teeth. “You call me Alexander. Not Alec, like everyone else does. And you always reach for me. I don’t think you even know you’re doing it.” 

Magnus stares in surprise at his hands, which are poised in mid-air. He lowers them, and sits heavily on the nearest chair with a deep sigh. Alec watches him, his eyes intent and his expression pained. 

“I’m right, aren’t I? It’s you that I’ve forgotten.”

Magnus clears his throat. “It appears that the magic has blocked me from your memory. All those missing spaces in your past are spaces that I used to fill.” 

Alec sits down opposite him. There’s only a table between them, littered with herbs and books and vials, and yet it feels like an immeasurable distance, vast and wide. Magnus wants to reach out, but the idea of rejection fills him with dread. 

“So, you were a friend? You must have been a good friend.”

Magnus doesn’t know how much of the truth will hurt Alec. He has a feeling that Alec already knows the truth, but is skirting around it. 

“My things are here, my shoes and books. Or at least, I think they belong to me,” Alec muses. “So, we must have known each other well. Magnus, I—”

And then he drops his head into his hands, tension in every line of his face. His shoulders grow rigid with pain.

“That’s enough,” Magnus says firmly. This time, he does reach out, regardless of his own hesitation. He slides a hand across the table and prises one of Alec’s hand away from his face, revealing a miserable expression. Squeezing his fingers gently, and ignoring Alec’s startled look, he says, “I promise, Alexander, we will find a way to fix this. We’re so close to an answer. Just hold on a little longer for me.”

Magnus can hear the love in his own voice, the warmth and softness, the ache. Alec must know what he means to him by now, he must, but he doesn’t say anything. He simply leaves his hand loosely in Magnus’s grasp, and nods.

*

It takes Magnus three more days before he figures out the antidote. It involves a convoluted recipe, a list of ingredients that spans the length of the living room, and a bout of vicious threats towards inanimate objects when the first batch spills all over the carpet. 

It takes three days of Alec ghosting around the edges of Magnus’s life, three days of him walking around the loft, picking things up that used to belong to him and frowning at them. Three days of him sparring, shirtless, in the middle of the living room, testing not only Magnus’s self-restraint, but also his sanity. 

It takes three days before Magnus carefully pours the antidote into a vial, stoppers it, and breathes a sigh of relief. 

He’s going to get his Alexander back. 

*

For one heart-stopping moment, nothing happens. Magnus’s stomach sinks as Alec continues to frown, gazing off into space, and then the potion bottle slips from Alec’s fingers. Magnus darts forward to catch it, and when he straightens up, Alec is gazing at him in awe. 

“It wasn’t that impressive,” Magnus jokes, waggling the bottle, but he can feel a spark of hope catch alight inside of him. There’s really only one reason why Alec would be staring at him like that, and he’s proved right a second later, when Alec surges forward to cup Magnus’s face with his hands. The bottle slips again, landing with a dull thud on the thick rug. 

“Magnus,” Alec says hoarsely. His hands are warm and callused, and his thumb smooths a pathway Magnus’s cheekbone. Magnus lets his eyes fall close and leans into the warmth. He can feel his heart hammering away inside his chest, and he swears he’s never been this nervous in all his life. 

“You remember?” He has to check. He has to be sure. “You remember me?” 

Alec’s laugh is shaky and a little breathless. “How could I forget?”

Magnus swats him on the shoulder gently, opening his eyes. “Now really isn’t the time for teasing, love.”

He raises both hands to cling to Alec’s wrists, drawing them away from his face. He can feel Alec’s pulse stutter at the touch, under his forefinger, and he slides their hands together until they’re holding hands, fingers tangled together. 

“I remember you,” Alec promises him. “I remember meeting you. I remember you making an awful joke about meat, of all things. I remember you teasing me about how you like a dirty lair.”

“Love a dirty lair, actually, darling,” Magnus corrects him. There’s relief in him, growing, blooming. He feels like he can breathe for the first time in days. 

Alec’s eyes crinkle when he grins. Then he grows serious, his eyes shining. “I remember a lot of things, but mostly, I remember that I love you, and I wouldn’t be without you, whether I could remember you or not. I kept wanting to come back here, even when I didn’t know you. I wanted to be here, with you. I love you, Magnus Bane.” 

Magnus breaks Alec’s hold on his hands to rush forward and kiss him. Alec inhales sharply as their mouths meet, and Magnus closes his eyes, hands stroking up Alec’s arms as they kiss slowly, shuffling forward to get as close to each other as possible, to breathe each other in. Alec sucks gently on his bottom lip, and Magnus pulls away with a tiny gasp before diving right back in again. 

“I missed you,” Magnus says breathlessly, between kisses. “I missed kissing you, and I missed talking to you, and I missed picking up your god-awful socks from around my loft. I missed telling you that I love you.”

“You haven’t actually said it yet,” Alec teases, redirecting his attention to Magnus’s neck. “Not since I remembered you.” 

“I love you,” Magnus says immediately. “Allow me to show you just how much.”

And then he pushes Alec, laughing giddily, in the direction of their bedroom. 

*

In the morning, things grow a little more serious. 

“What would you have done?” Alec asks, his voice deep and warm with sleep. They’re lying on the gold sheets, and Magnus’s eyes are half-mast. He feels pleasantly sleepy, but not tired. The bone-deep exhaustion has faded. 

“If it hadn’t worked,” Alec continues, when Magnus quirks an eyebrow at him. “What would you have done if the antidote hadn’t worked?”

Magnus sits up, the sheets pooling around him. Alec stays where he is, gazing up at him seriously. Magnus knows there’s no right or wrong answer. He knows that Alec would understand, regardless of the answer he gives. 

“I would have tried again,” Magnus says. “Until I found one that worked.”

“And if you didn’t find one?”

“I have a very long life ahead of me,” Magnus says, deflecting slightly with a teasing grin. “I would have found one eventually.” 

Alec sits up slowly and cups his chin with a gentle grasp. He presses a soft kiss to Magnus’s lips, and then draws back slowly, thoughtfully. 

“If something like this ever happens again, you have to promise me something,” Alec says. “You have to promise me that you’d do what’s best for you, in the long run. The last thing I want is to lose you, but I want you to be unhappy even less. It would kill me if you spent your life hurting because of something like this.”

“It would kill me to spend my life without you, Alexander,” Magnus says gravely, and Alec’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. 

They both know there’s no easy answer here, so Magnus takes the most obvious route, brushing his fingers along Alec’s cheek. 

“How about we both promise to do what’s best for the both of us, if something like this ever happens again? Does that work?” 

Magnus knows there’s no easy answer. He knows there’s no way either of them could be truly happy if something like this happened again, if it weren’t resolved. He also knows that right now, Alec is here, with him, whole and safe and sound, and for right now, that’s more than enough. 

Alec smiles softly, that familiar, loving smile, and his eyes fix on Magnus, recognising him, knowing him. He tilts his head and kisses Magnus’s palm reverently, and Magnus sighs happily. 

“Yeah, Magnus. That works.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
